


Dead Man Can Also Walk

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Boys Kissing, Child Murder, Comfort, Death, Disease, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Hiding, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have no idea where I'm going with this, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical hurt, Post-Apocalypse, Presumed Dead, Real Madrid CF, Relationship(s), Sexual Tension, Subtle stuff, Tension, Zombies, hunger, mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2104668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years ago Fernando left disease ridden Barçelona to return home in Madrid. The world has become a mass of sick, rotting people with no thought other than to kill and Fernando must face, and has faced, odds most people could not. However through pain the most beautiful things often shine through.</p><p>Post-Apocalyptic AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raya/gifts).



The sickly yellow sun beat down on the bone dry ground and for miles all Fernando can see is the dry burned out husks of trees. He sighs and picks up his gun, sliding into his pocket and standing up. 

Once this had been a beautiful forest filled with green life that sang and danced to Mother Nature’s eternal rhythm. Fernando can remember playing hide-and-seek with his mother among the giant trees. Now she’s dead, or something else, something he doesn’t want to think about. 

Fernando begins walking again like he has for the past hour. The sun is shining mercilessly down on his exposed neck. At every sound, every movement, he immediately goes on red alert. 

To die at the hand of a lone Untouchable would be a fine death indeed. 

Fernando continues walking for what seems like another hour or maybe more, he can’t register time anymore. His bones ache and he hasn’t had any food for days, his only weapon is his father’s old gun and the couple packs of ammo that are left are dwindling quickly.

Fernando was in Barçelona, visiting friends, when it started. The sickness swept through everything, killing or turning the people into those things. Those creatures with no brains and and no hearts just one thought; to kill. When his parents had gotten sick he had stolen the car and drove. Drove until he couldn’t feel the guilt or pain or regret. Drove until the car ran out of gas and when he had pulled the car over to the side of the road and that was when he had pulled out the gun he knew his father kept in the glove compartment.

Fernando abandoned the car of course and just started walking. He didn't know what direction he was going, he knew only that he wanted to go to Madrid. Sometimes he stopped in little “Havens” where those who had not caught the disease would feed him and clothe him and then he would slip away in the night, after asking if anyone knew how to get to the city (his home). The last time he had found one had been four days ago, give or take, and they had provided him with two canisters of water and some bread, and a little vague information that Madrid was a couple days away. He didn't harbor much hope though. His bread ran out yesterday and he drank the last of the water that morning.

Fernando doesn’t know where he’s going or how long he’s been travelling, just that he’s gotten older. His face has lost all baby fat, and his body has been toned by starvation and fighting, fighting those things. Fernando doesn’t remember when he started calling the things “Untouchables.” Just that suddenly that’s what they were. Like the Indians on the bottom of the cast system in a much older India. He has an aunt in India, she's probably dead, or like dead…

Fernando’s thoughts begin to wander and suddenly he’s not paying attention to his surroundings and he’s not on alert anymore. He doesn’t hear them shuffling along behind him, he doesn’t smell them, their putrid stink rolling off in waves. He’s too tired, too thirsty, too done. However, when the first one reaches out and touches the back of Fernando neck, he reacts immediately. Gun out and blazing in less than a few seconds, but when he sees how many there are he knows he can’t. He doesn't have enough time to reload, doesn’t have enough g-d damn time!

Fernando grunts in frustration as the one closest to him gets back up and he shoots it ruthlessly in the head, it goes down and this time stays down. He can feel one grabbing at his hair and he spins driving a bullet into its head. It scratches at his face as it goes down. Fernando ducks avoiding another on as he struggles to reload, he kicks its legs out and it lands squashily on the ground at his feet. Click. _Finally!_ The round goes in and he starts shooting again.

Hope is a beautiful thing and the sound of that round snapping into place gave Fernando José Torres Sanz hope. Maniacal joy joins the hope and he smiles hysterically as the last one hits the dusty ground. There’s blood streaming down his face, but he’s still smiling because he did it. He fucking killed all of them. 

Fernando stumbles a few steps and doubles over dry heaving into the dust. His hand goes to his stomach and comes away wet. He raises the hand so it's with his eyes and there’s red all over it. He looks down and sees the split in his shirt where one of them must have caught him with something. He starts to laugh crazily at the irony of it all. Kill all the Untouchables only to die minutes later. 

Fernando falls to his knees, then forward onto his chest. He doesn’t feel anything and all he can see is a narrow strip of black cracked asphalt. His vision starts to fade and crumble, but before anything can go black he feels himself being rolled over. Then he hears swearing. 

_Fuck he’s banged up like shit._

_More like fuck look how many he killed._

_Quick he’s still breathing lets get him back to the Bernabéu, maybe Cris can do something._

_I don’t think even Cris can do something, the guy is fucked up._

And that’s the last Fernando hears before finally falling into comforting white that swirls and pulls him away. 


	2. Times are Dark, Healing is Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ran a little long to make up for the rush and unedited mess that was the first chapter. I hope you like it and thank you to everyone for taking the time to read this.
> 
> P.S. I'm still looking for someone who is willing and kind enough to beta this story.

Sergio had been sent out when Marcelo (who was on watch duty) had heard the gun shots. Hell, everyone had heard the shots. He had immediately known that he would get deployed since Iker always sent him out to deal with shit. _It’s probably just another poor son-of-a-bitch who’s gone bat-shit_. He had thought and collected up his make shift spear. Iker had sent Xabi and Pepe along with Sergio as back up even though Sergio had insisted he could do it on his own. 

Now, staring down at the boy who they had just witness kill seven cranks on his own, Sergio is pretty happy that Iker had insisted upon back up, since they'll probably have to carry the boy. Xabi’s kneeling next to the boy and, after checking that he’s unconscious, he tells Pepe to lift him up enough to wrap a bandage around the boys midsection, where the blood is coming from. 

They all know that Cris will kill them if they try to do anything else, since the Portuguese boy seems to think that everyone besides for him is a clumsy oaf. 

The trio lift the boy carefully off the ground and try to walk as steadily as they can back to the Bernabéu. 

~

When the sickness hit, Sergio and his small group of friends had walked, fought, and dragged themselves to the outskirts of Madrid. The capital city had become a war-zone, each section breaking apart and forming gangs that killed, raped, and stole anything that crossed their paths. Iker had been the one with idea to go to the Bernabéu, his argument being that; since it was the football offseason not many people would be there and the surrounding building had long since fallen away. 

The deterioration of the capital city had begun six years ago when there had been a freak earthquake that caused a major fire through out half of the city. Almost half of the buildings had been destroyed leaving the patterns of roads and the half ruins of buildings. Six days later the sickness struck and six days after that Sergio, Iker, and the rest of their friends had escaped to the Bernabéu.

It had been a struggle at first. They had to clear the place of cranks- Pepe had come up with the name- and then they had to fight off anyone else that tried to steal it. 

During the first three years there had been an endless stream of homeless trying to get in. So much so that Iker had called them all into a meeting room he had found in an empty hallway and they had taken a vote as to what was to be done. 

Sergio, every practical Sergio was in favour of selecting the kids around their age, in other words anyone under the age of fourteen. Pepe said everyone, but they all knew they couldn’t take the adults. They were the ones that were dying. Everyone above the age of fifteen had been infected and no one knew anything other than that. Marcelo agreed with Sergio, so did Xabi, Benzema, Cris, Gareth (who they had picked up along the way (he was only 11)), and Di María. 

So Iker ruled that they were only to take in anyone under the age of fourteen because that was safe and that would keep them safe.Over time and hardships and every other obstacle including invasion, food shortages, cranks, and civil war they had grown to be about thirty kids. The first years had been the toughest and Sergio can still remember the bitter taste of battle in his mouth, and the grittiness of unshed tears. Eventually though they each had settled into jobs. Iker was the _presidente_ , Sergio, Xabi, and Pepe were scouts and fighters, Marcelo was a watchmen, Cris had claimed the title of doctor, and Gareth, Benzema, and Di María had become fighters, supporters, cooks, and every other g-d forsaken job that needed to be done. They had passed six years, not an easy six years but they had happened, and Sergio sometimes wondered (he was now twenty) if anything would ever come out of this. Would any of them ever know anything else than what they had now?

Beside him Xabi grunts in exertion and shift the boy to a more comfortable position on his shoulder (they’ve decided that its easier if they take turns carrying him) and Sergio looks him over.

The boy can’t be much older than them maybe even younger, but that might be because he’s unconscious. He has a nasty scratch across one cheek that Sergio knows will scar and the bandage around his middle is already soaked with blood. He also looks like he’s been covered in years of grime and dirt. His hair is an indistinguishable shade of brown and his skin has a false tan. 

“Sergio, here take him.” Xabi finally says and they stop for a moment so Xabi can hand the boy over. His surprisingly light and instead of carrying the boy over his shoulder like Xabi, Sergio carries him in his arms so the boy's head rests on his shoulder. Sergio looks down examining the boy’s face. His nose is straight except for the tip which is slightly round and button-y and his bottom lip is fuller than the top one. His eyelashes are long and curl slightly against his cheekbones. Sergio is not quite sure why he takes this in and why it seems important or relevant so he just keeps walk his eyes set resolutely on the horizon where he can see the giant stadium in the distance. 

~

The first thing Fernando registers, as he swims his way up out of the cloudy whiteness that surrounds him, is pain. 

It’s white hot, brighter that the white that Fernando just swam from, whiter than a freshly scrubbed lab coat, whiter even than _Los Blancos’_ uniforms. It fills him with an ache that’s strong and persistent and it won’t let him fall back into the comforting white of unconsciousness. He groans and the pain, if possible, intensifies. Then a voice speaks out of the white.

“Ahh, at last. I almost thought you were gone for good.” The Spanish is good, but there is a slight accent that he can’t place over the pain in his face and side which seem to be the two places most crying out. 

Fernando finally opens his eyes, blinking furiously at the light that feels like its in his eyes and then some. When his eyes finally adjust he can make out that he’s in some sort of medical room and he’s laying in a bed that’s not hard nor soft and there’s a face peering down at him with a mix of curiosity and worry. 

“How?” Fernando’s voice is croaky with pain and disuse. The face smiles.

“Sergio, Xabi and Pepe brought you in. They said you killed a shit load of cranks…..” the voice continues on and Fernando starts to slip off again, when the voice suddenly get more focused. “No, you can’t go back to sleep. You might die this time.” 

Fernando opens his eyes again frowns as the face that he can see now has a body stands and goes over to a table before coming back and lifting the back of his head. A hand puts a glass of water to his lips and he instinctively swallows. Whatever it is burns as it goes down, but as the hand rests his head back on the pillow sharp edge of pain begins to dull and he takes in the man more clearly.

The face who has just helped him is a dark skinned man around his age with black hair, brown eyes and smile lines that curve around his eyes and mouth. Fernando pushes himself up into a sitting wincing at the pain in his side. 

“Woa, woah.” The man stands up and tries to push Fernando back down, but he pushes the man’s hands away and the man relents sitting back down on the bed next to Fernando’s.

“I’m Cristiano, but everyone calls me Cris.” The man says and smiles, making the lines around his mouth and eyes crinkle up.

“You don’t have a last name?” Fernando asks his voice still croaky, but getting stronger. Cris hands him a bottle of water from the bedside table. Fernando grabs it and drinks, suddenly remembering that he hasn’t had water for too long. 

“Last name are slightly irrelevant now, but if you care so much my full name is Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro.” Cris comments as he watches Fernando drink the bottle down. “What’s your name?”

“Fernando.” Fernando replies his own name feeling foreign on his tongue. He hasn’t told someone his name in a very long time.

“Well, Fernando, if you can keep that water down and you’re able to sit up, I think a little food is in order.” Cris says, standing and walking to the door. _“Fabio!”_ He yells then says something in a language that suddenly Fernando recognizes as Portuguese. _Well that explains the accent_. He thinks and swings his legs over the side of the bed. The pain is now only a dull ache coming from his face and side. Cris, seeing him hurries, over.

“You should not be getting up.” Fernando ignores him and pads over, bare feet cold against the tile, to the mirror in that’s in one corner of the room.  
He’s naked but for a pair of boxers that fit reasonably well. There’s a bandage wrapped around his midsection and he carefully unwinds it, noticing in the process that he’s clean and smells of soap. A smell that he hasn’t smelled in years (maybe, he still has no idea about time). A small part of him wonders about who bathed him.

The wound in Fernando’s side is not so bad. Neatly stitched it looks like it’s healing well and will soon join the collection of scars that mark his body like a map. He carefully rewraps the bandage and looks at his face. There too is a neatly stitched wound that will definitely scar. Then he looks down at himself.

Fernando is very skinny, hip bones jutting out as well as collarbone and shoulder blades, but there’s muscle there too. Hard and toned there isn’t one soft part of his body. Hunger and fighting have taken that all away. Someone’s shaved the little hair that was on his face (he’s never been able to grow much) and given his hair a cut. His eyes are dark with pain and experience no person his age should have to know. 

Behind Fernando, Cris clears his throat and he turns from the mirror.

“Here.” He hands Fernando a t-shirt, with the Real Madrid crest on it, and a pair of jeans. “If you can walk and stand then you can come eat with the rest of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to tell me what you think or give ideas.


	3. Old Friends and New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the positive feedback its so awesome. I got some questions as to what made Fernando stay by himself and hopefully next chapter will get to that but for now there are some subtle hints in this one.

After Fernando changes Cris leads him out of the medical room and down a tunnel.

“When the sickness started my group of friends knew that we needed to get out of the city. So Iker, who’s now our _presidente,_ came up with idea to grab the Bernabéu.” Cris explains as they walk. He chuckles at Fernando’s slightly astonished look. “My thoughts exactly. Anyway the insane scheme worked and here we are six years later-”

 _“Wait what? Six years?”_ Fernando gasps out interrupting Cris. Cris gives him a funny look.

“Ya man, where have you been? It’s been six years since all of this shit happened.” Cris replies incredulously.

“That’s-that’s not possible. There is no way. How, how could?” Fernando’s world has suddenly become a pin prick of light at the end of the tunnel. There’s no way six years could have happened since- No, he refuses to believe it.

Fernando’s knees start to wobble and shake and he feels like he’s going to be sick. Cris grabs his elbow. 

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I’m going to take you back to the infirmary.” Cris says his voice filled with concern. Fernando takes a deep breath and goes to that place in his head where nothing matters and everything is relative. 

“No, I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” He says firmly and Cris reluctantly lets go of his elbow.

“If you insist, niño.” Cris says and begins walking again. This time he doesn’t say anything for fear of sparking another panic attack. 

Fernando follows quietly, he doesn’t complain about his wounds or ask about the six years. He’s too used to being alone, to bottling everything away and not speaking. Out there you had to be quiet or you died, you had to eat whatever you could, trust no one and always keep on alert. Fernando knows nothing but that so talking to Cris is something that isn’t coming easy. 

Fernando can remember a time when he had friends and he laughed a lot. He can remember those times but he can’t feel that emotion anymore. The world has taken that from him and it won’t easily return what is his. His train of thought is broken as Cris finally leads him down one more corridor and suddenly he can hear lots of noise and the sound of cutlery.

Cris opens a door to the right and holds it open while Fernando steps through. 

Fernando hasn’t seen this many people in front of him since he was in Barçelona (apparently six years ago). As the door bangs shut behind them the room suddenly goes quiet and all the faces turn toward them. Fernando suddenly doesn’t feel so well and for a second the pain in his face strengthens until it’s almost unbearable, then it subsides and he can hear Cris introducing him. He feels like its first grade all over again.

Suddenly someone is standing up and walking forward and peering into his face. “Fernando? Fernando Torres? Fuck man, we thought you were dead.” Then the person is hugging him and he remembers. 

“Stevie?” He croaks and his arms go around his friend, _his friend._ Someone he knows, someone from before. (Fernando met Stevie in Liverpool when he went there for a summer for a football camp. They became fast friends and were very close) He swallows tightly, but that’s because Stevie is pressing too tightly on his injured side. Stevie pushes him back to arms length, to examine him. In front of them the rest of the people begin to lose interest and return to their food. Stevie eyes him up and down, then looks him in the eye. 

“You’ve changed.” He states and it isn’t a compliment or an insult, its just Stevie. Fernando shrugs.

“Haven’t we all?” Stevie grins and pats him on the back.

“Come and get some food. You look like you could stand to gain a few.” Stevie says and leads him over to a table in the corner. 

The table is empty but for two guys, and one of the guys Fernando recognizes immediately.

“Daniel? Daniel Agger?” Fernando asks hesitantly.

“Fernando Torres, g-d, we thought you were a shit faced crank or something. What the fuck man?” Daniel says grinning and standing to hug his long lost friend. 

“Let the guy breath, Daniel.” Stevie says and hands Fernando a plate. Fernando digs in before he’s even sitting down and Daniel pats him on the back.

“Slow down, you’ll choke and that will not not be cool.” Fernando hears Stevie say from somewhere above him, but the food is too good. There’s bread and some kind of beans and eggs. Eggs! How does anyone get eggs anymore? Fernando is too busy chewing to care. 

Finally when he slows down enough to pay more attention to his surrounds he looks around. There aren’t as many people as he thought there was in the beginning. Just around thirty, maybe thirty five, and they all look around his age or younger. _If Cris was right and it's been six years since then, that makes me twenty._ Fernando thinks and suddenly the food in his stomach wants to protest. 

“Hey, Nando,” Stevie gets his attention. “meet Xabi. He’s one of the guys that found you, and he’s also my boyfriend.” Fernando blinks at the man across the table. Xabi’s red head and he looks smart. Fernando vaguely remembers Stevie telling him something about someone in Spain named Xabi. He nods at Xabi in thanks and Xabi nods back with a smile.

“Stevie and I came in from Liverpool to visit when shit went belly up and then there was no way out of this g-d forsaken country.” Daniel says. “Xabi knew this guy Iker, he runs the place, and he let us stay here. What about you? You look like shit, so you must have some stories.”

“Has it really been six years?” Fernando asks quietly and Stevie nods in some confusion.

“Why? How could you not have known? What happened to you?” Stevie questions and Fernando suddenly feels the familiar my-world-is-imploding feeling so he takes a sip of water. 

“I can’t tell you. Not yet.” Fernando says his voice little more than a whisper lost amidst the loudness of the “cafeteria.” Stevie looks a little hurt, but Daniel nods in understanding.

“Well we’re always gonna be here so anytime you feel like sharing…” Daniel says and Fernando gives him a thankful look. 

~

Later, after he eats enough food that his stomach feels like it’ll burst, Stevie and Daniel take him on a tour of the converted Santiago Bernaéu Stadium. 

The first place they stop at is Iker’s office and introduce the new arrival. Fernando finds Iker very friendly and welcoming, with an easy smile and kind eyes. He immediately like Iker and tells Stevie after they leave the office. Stevie laughs, saying that he should see Iker on the battlefield, so to speak, before he makes any judgements. 

Next they stop at the pitch. 

“Half of the green is dedicated to growing things like beans, potatoes, and other kinds of vegetables. There was a girl a couple years back who brought a shit-load of seeds that she had lifted from a hardware store, so we started growing stuff. Before that though we ate crap out of a can. It was gross, and hard to get.” Daniel narrates as the walk passed a garden, of sorts.

“The other half of the pitch,” Xabi continues, “is split in two. One half is for the chickens, we found them during a scouting trip. The other half is for training.” 

“Training for what?” Fernando asks, though he very well knows the answer.

“To kill the shit that wants to kill us. Cranks. Gangs.” Xabi replies grimly. 

“What are Cranks?” Fernando ask, but he knows the answer to that question also.

“The zombie things that live out there.” Xabi says gesturing. “When we found you- Pepe, Sergio and I -you were surrounded by seven very dead Cranks and you had a gun not that far from you. Here it is by the way.” Xabi pulls it out of a pocket in his jeans and hands it over. Fernando takes it, feeling the familiar weight and heft. 

“Thank you.” Fernando says and put it in his pocket.

“Na, don’t thank me.” Xabi grins. “Thank Sergio he’s the one that picked it up and I think he also has the rest of your ammunition.” Xabi slings an arm around Stevie’s shoulder. Daniel grins.

“Come on, Nado, lets get you to your room. Let's give the love-birds so space.” Daniel says and begins walking down a side tunnel, Fernando follows with one last look at the two behind them.

“This is the showers and locker room, guys are the Real showers and girls are the guest showers.” Daniel says as they walk, pointing out various things that Fernando is trying to find room for in his already packed brain. “Then down here are the rooms. We did a lot of building and reconstruction so that the offices and stuff could be turned into bedroom but eventually it got done. Here we are.” They’ve stopped in front of an unmarked closed door. Daniel knock and turns to give Fernando a reassuring look. The door opens and Daniel says, 

“You’ve got a room mate, Ramos.” 

The guy steps into the hallway Fernando looks him over. He’s slightly blonde, more of strawberry blonde then true blonde and his eyes are dark brown similar to Fernando’s. He about the same height as Fernando and there’s a pain in his face that Fernando instantly knows only he can read. It’s because that pain is in his own face too, he saw it in the mirror earlier, but he’s always known it was there. The man looks almost reluctant to hold out his hand, but he does and Fernando grasps it with tight grip that is instantly returned. 

“I’m Sergio.” He says and in that instant Fernando knows that this is the Sergio that helped Xabi “rescue” him. 

“Fernando.” Fernando says and lets Sergio’s hand go. There is slightly awkward pause before Daniel says.

“I’ve got to go do my garden shift so Ramos if you wouldn’t mind taking him to get some clothes and shit?” 

“Ya sure.” Sergio says absentmindedly and walks back into his-no, their room. Fernando follows the boy with the pain in in his face and feels like he’s just lost himself forever, but then again he felt like that last time.


	4. A Shared Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three + one things Sergio learns about Fernando on the first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the support its amazing.  
> I have serious Fernando feels right now because everyone is hating on him for his playing. As though hating on him is going to do any good. It's as though they forget all the good he's done or just use it to compare it to him now. It makes me so sad to see it. I think that's why this chapter is slightly melancholy toward the end.
> 
> Enjoy.

One of the first things Sergio realizes about Fernando is that the boy is nearly emaciated he’s so skinny. He had, after showing Fernando around their room and telling him where the bathroom was, taken him to the clothes storage. There he had selected a shirt at random and handed it to Fernando, who had immediately removed the Real shirt and, realizing that Sergio was watching him, turned bright red. Sergio chuckled.

“You seem happy to get that shirt off.” 

“I’m not a Real fan.” Fernando mumbled and put on the t-shirt that Sergio offered, it was as Fernando turned away that Sergio saw the other boy’s back. Not only did every bone stick out, but there were several long scars slashed across the skin and that made Sergio turn away in embarrassment. Another man’s scars were his own business. 

“Where are you from then, niño?” Sergio asked trying to fill the uncomfortable silence as Fernando dug around in a large pile of shorts.

“Fuelabrada. I’m an Atletico fan.” Fernando replies his back to Sergio.

“God’s irony.” Sergio says smirking. 

“If there was a G-d.” Fernando turns back to Sergio, in his hand is a pair of shorts with the Atletico Madrid crest on them. Sergio frowns at Fernando’s words and leads the way out of the clothes storage.

~

The second thing that Sergio notices about Fernando is that he’s very quiet and he never smiles. Really that’s two things, but in Sergio’s head they’re one. Whenever Fernando’s asked a question he always answers in as little words as possible, as if he’s doesn’t want to waste time or words. It’s a little disquieting at first but after Sergio asks Stevie about it right before dinner Stevie just laughs. 

“He’s always been quiet, admittedly and for good reason now, but he’s always been the quietest of my friends.” 

Sergio wants Stevie’s words to be the answer, but there’s a feeling in his chest that tells him that Stevie’s answer is only part of the reason. 

Sergio leaves Fernando to Agger’s good graces and goes to sit with Cris, Iker and Marcelo. There’s a plate and a bottle of water waiting for him when he sits down and he digs in without greeting his friends. 

“Slow down there Sergio, I don’t want to see you in the infirmary for the second time this week.” Cris says surprised.

“What’s he like?” Marcelo asks leaning across the table and grabbing Iker’s carrot. 

“Who?” For a second Sergio is lost then-

“El niño, the new guy, Fernando.” Marcelo elaborates, carrot flying from his mouth.

“He’s already got a nickname?” Cris asks distractedly. 

“He’s quiet, never smiles and is skinnier than Bojan.” Sergio say ignoring Cris’ question. Everyone gets a nickname eventually. Iker looks up from his green beans.

“Has he told you anything about what’s happening out there?” Sergio shakes his head.

“Like I said, he doesn’t say much.”

Iker returns to his food a grimace on his face, and Cris puts a hand on his arm.

“I’m sure Sara’s fine.” Cris says comfortingly.

Ever so often the people of the Stadium (as they like to call themselves) collect, drifters. These drifters usually carried news from other settlements or tidbits of information on the cranks (nests, location, quantity etc.). Once they told their tale, ate, and slept they usually moved on. One such drifter, by name of Sara, had stayed a week because of a shoulder wound that Cris wanted to make sure would heal. 

During that time Iker had fallen in love with her and had asked her to stay. She had refused saying that drifters must drift and that is what she was destined to do. Iker had been very broken up about it and Sergio had been forced to run things while Iker recovered from his bout of lovesickness. However, since then, every drifter that come in Iker questions mercilessly and it had only been Cris’ mother-henish tendencies in the infirmary that had stopped Iker from drilling Fernando.

Sergio eats his last stringbean, chewing slowly, and looks up to where Fernando is sitting. Stevie looks like he’s trying to make Fernando laugh and Fernando just looks confused. He’s making a face that causes his nose to scrunch up and his eyebrows draw together. He looks cute Sergio thinks then shakes himself internally for thinking such a thing, he barely knows the boy. 

As if feeling Sergio’s gaze on him, Fernando looks up and their eyes lock for a second before Fernando ducks away a blush staining his cheeks and Sergio chuckles to himself. 

It’s very easy to make Fernando blush Sergio realizes, making that three things he’s learned in one day. Sometimes the best way to learn is to watch.

~

The fourth thing that Sergio learns about Fernando doesn’t come until much later. 

After they’ve taken showers and Fernando has curled up facing the wall in a ball so tight it looks humanly impossible, Sergio pulls out his book and begins reading. Or at least he tries too. The words on the page keep fluttering like lost souls and he thinks he’s read the same line seven times. Sergio looks up at the boy across the room and watches him. He notes the steady rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, how he looks relaxed in a way that he never does when he’s awake.

Sergio can feel his head sinking lower and lower on his chest and his eyelids shut and drift away letting the current of sleep float him into oblivion. And then he’s back again. 

Sergio’s eyes snap open and for a second he doesn’t know why he’s awake and then he sees Fernando twisting and turning on his bed, keening. 

In pain, in sorrow, Sergio doesn’t know what, but he reacts without thinking. He jumps out of bed and is across the small room in less than two strides. He sits down on Fernando’s bed and pulls the keening boy into a tight embrace. Fernando’s arms go around Sergio’s waist and, still asleep, he buries his face in Sergio’s neck. Sergio can feel wet tears on his neck and he knows Fernando is crying and there’s a part of him that wants to shake the boy awake and make him explain, but Sergio’s had nightmares too. 

Sergio rocks Fernando back and forth, murmuring like one would to a baby and finally the tears and keening stop and with a sigh Fernando goes limp. Sergio continues to hold him, his chin on the top of Fernando’s head. 

Sergio remembers when he used to share a room with Iker, before Sara, and how when Sergio had nightmares Iker would do just what he’s doing for Fernando. He not talking, he’s just comforting.

Sergio leans back against the wall, Fernando still curled into him, and closes his eyes slowly falling back into the river of sleep

Later Sergio would realize the fourth thing he learned the day he met Fernando. They shared pain. Although Sergio didn’t know what Fernando’s was they still shared a pain that ran deep enough the cause nightmares and that was a pain indeed.


	5. Wild Card

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite short since its mostly just filler and character development, hopefully next chapter will be juicier.   
> Thank you all so much for the comments and nice things.   
> Special thank you to Michelle for beta-ing the first four chapters which will go up soon.
> 
> I'm thinking about, when this story is over, vamping it up and adding more meat (per say), let me know what you think.

Fernando blinks awake, and for a second he doesn’t know where he is. Then everything from the previous day comes crashing down on his head and wants to slump back under the covers because it’s all too much to take in. Instead he rolls over and glances at Sergio’s bed, it’s empty. Sergio must have gotten up before him since the covers are pulled in almost military neatness over the bed and a book lays carefully on the pillow. 

Fernando allows himself a groan and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, letting his feet rest on the cold tile. He stands and looks down at himself. Fernand’s eyes rest on the bandage wrapped around his side and he knows he should probably go see Cris at some point today. His fingers run lightly over his cheekbone feeling the cut. Both wound ache with a dull throb that gives him a headache. He sighs and looks down again. 

Now that the dirt and grime have been washed away Fernando can see the many freckles that dot his skin like a map. There are more now than there ever was. Spreading over his chest, shoulders and arms in patterns, clusters and lines. He traces some with the tip of his finger and marvels at the sheer amount of them. They collect over and across his skin like Mother Nature’s tattoo. 

Fernando’s examination is interrupted by the sound of the door opening and Sergio walking in. Fernando scrambles for his t-shirt and shorts that lay in a pile at the base of his bed. Sergio sits down on his bed, watching Fernando with a half-amused, half-curious expression. “Have you always had that many freckles?” He asks and Fernando flushes slightly.

“I have more now than I had then.” Fernando replies pulling his shorts on.

“What was then?” Sergio asks almost wistfully and Fernando gives him a noncommittal shrug. Sergio sighs. “Let’s go get you some breakfast.”

~

After breakfast Sergio takes Fernando to see Cris, who gently unwraps Fernando’s side and gives it a couple whips with a liquid that Fernando wants to identify as alcohol, but that sent is barely a memory. Sergio stands off to one side watching the whole procedure with narrowed eyes and there’s an almost protective stance in the way his arms are folded and his eyes follow Cris’ hand like a dog follows a bone. Cris finds it very amusing but would never say anything since he enjoys a good show and the slight tension between the two is enough for him to begin giving theories to an idea. 

“Where did you get the antiseptic?” Fernando asks suddenly and Cris smiles.

“Sergio went out about a month after we cleared this place out and came back with bag loads and thankfully we haven’t had to use as much as I thought we would. It will eventually run out and then we’ll have to start using the drinking alcohol.” Cris replies and gives Fernando a pat on the shoulder “You’re good, just come back in a day or so and I’ll take out the stitches. You’ll scar but that’s nothing new I take it?” 

Fernando grimaces in answer and puts his shirt back on. Sergio gives Cris a look that says _I’ve already tried it’s no use he’s literally a closed book._ Cris shrugs and watches the two as Sergio leads them out of the infirmary. He can feel that something’s about to happen, something to do with that boy. Fernando Torres is a wild card and wild cards don’t last long. So why is he still alive?


	6. Lights Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your patience and love its much appreciated.
> 
> This chapter ran a little longer to make up for last time.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Chapter 6

That first question that Fernando had asked Sergio seemed as though it had opened a floodgate, suddenly Fernando seemed interested in everything. Asking questions like there was no tomorrow. Sergio sighs, but there’s a happy bubbly feeling in his chest that’s telling him: _You like that he’s asking all these questions mostly because he’s talking to you._ He agrees silently. 

“Wait, how do you guys get water?” Fernando asks as though it just occurred to him.

“James Rodríguez, maybe I’ll introduce you, came in about four years ago and he offered to try and fix the electricity. Hell, before that we were living on bottled water and literally no showers. We were pretty desperate.” Sergio replies in a sardonic sort of tone. Fernando is about to reply when Daniel runs up, there’s worry across every feature of his face and he turns to Sergio without so much as a hello.

“There’s a drifter outside the gate.” Daniel says urgently.

“Was he checked?” Sergio asks immediately.

“Yes, but that’s not the point. The drifter is a she and she is Sara.” Daniel finishes. Sergio frowns, he can feel Fernando’s eyes on him. 

“Fuck, did you tell Iker?” Sergio says and begins walking at top speed toward the entrance to the stadium. 

“No.” Daniel says and the tone would have been insolent if not for the worry and almost fear in his eyes.

“Why the fuck not?” Sergio asks viciously.

“She,” Daniel starts then frowns, “she’s in a bad way.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Sergio stops turns to the two of them and in a voice covered in authority, but laced with fear says. “Go get Cris, take Fernando and make sure that no one else, except for the guard that found her, knows what’s going on. We can’t have panic. I’m going for Iker.”

Daniel nods and grabs Fernando by the arm. “Can you run like you used too?” Fernando nods and glances back at Sergio and it’s as if he says. _Don’t do anything stupid and break it to him gently._ Sergio nods in understanding, though since when have they been able to do that. The thought flies out of his mind as he races through the vast stadium trying to get to Iker before anyone else can fuck it up. 

~

When Daniel and Fernando reach Cris he’s talking to a guy with spiky blonde hair, in Portuguese. Daniel grabs Cris and, without explaining, begins dragging him away. Cris yanks back trying to get out of Daniel’s hold and Fernando catches him as he falls. 

“What Daniel is not saying is that they need you up at the gate.” Fernando says softly. His eyes flick up to where the other boy is watching the exchange and frowns. He doesn’t like this guy.

“Daniel, please elaborate.” Cris says dusting himself off haughtily and beginning to walk, before they turn the corner, however, he turns and says something in Portuguese to the guy at the hall. 

“Iker’s girl, the drifter, hobbled in this morning when I was on duty. I checked her and she’s fine in that sense, but fuck, she’s messed up-”

“Why the fucking hell did you not say so before?” Cris says and breaks into a run. Daniel and Fernando hurry along behind him.

“Why do you have to check people?” Fernando asks and Danny gives him a weird look.

“Where have you been the past six years? Cranks look like us remember or were you just somewhere twiddling your thumbs for the past six years.” Daniel says a frown gracing his features.

“The cranks-untouchables that I always had to deal with were zombie like.” Fernando replies, but the conversation is cut short by the sight of Xabi standing over a body laying curled up on the tile, there’s a small but steadily growing pool of blood around he like a halo 

“Cris, Nando.” Xabi nods at Fernando while Cris ignores them and kneels down next to the injured girl. Gently as though she were made of paper he rolls her over and everyone except for Fernando gasps. 

There is chunk missing from her face and it’s bleeding profusely. Her shirt is torn and ripped to shreds and there are major and minor scratches covering every surface of her body. Her eyes blink open in pain and when she sees Cris she tries to smile.

“Looks bad, doesn’t it?” She says her voice croaky with pain.

“Oh shit, Sara.” Cris frowns, his lips twisting in worry. For a second there’s silence, everyone knows what that meant. _She won’t survive._ Fernando thinks calmly. 

Then shouting comes from the end of the hallway and they all look up and Sergio is trying to hold Iker back. Iker violently pushes him away and runs over to them pushing Daniel and Fernando out of the way. He kneels down, the kneecaps of his jeans immediately soaking with blood. 

“Sara,” Iker says his voice an almost broken whisper. She opens her eyes again and Fernando turns away, because there’s something in those eyes that’s only for Iker to see and he feels like he’s intruding. Sergio walks over to stand between him and Daniel.

“Iker.” Fernando can hear the girl-Sara say in that same croaky tone. “Listen,” her voice takes on an urgent tone, “I need you to listen to me, when I was...attacked, it was by a group of cranks that looked like zombies. The kind in the old horror films. They fuck it, I couldn’t there were too many.” Her voice begins to slide. “Madrid...center of city...old man..God it hurts. Iker, help me.” 

Beside him Sergio stiffens and hesitantly Fernando wraps an arm around Sergio’s shoulder and pulls him into a hug. Sergio pulls away after a couple seconds and Fernando turns back toward Iker and Sara. There’s this stillness in the pit of his stomach that won’t let him feel the things that everyone else is probably feeling. It’s happened to him, worse than this but Fernando tries not to think about those days. Below him Iker lets out a sob and gathers the blood stained girl in his arms and Fernando knows that Sara is dead.

~

They make a pyre for her outside the Stadium and there are tears all around and Iker most of all (his face buried in Sergio shoulder), Daniel tells Fernando about how the week that Sara was healing she tried to fit herself into as many lives as possible. 

“That’s the thing about those g-d damn drifters. They want to be remembered since they don’t have a place to call home that’ll remember them.” Daniel says and takes out a cigarette and an ancient lighter. “I save them. For deaths or shit that happens.” He sticks it in mouth and lights it up.

They’re sitting outside the stadium in a little shack designated for people on watch. They have a small fire in front of them and a rickety wall to their backs. Fernando looks up at the sky, the stars sprinkled like little white flowers over a blue meadow. A breeze works itself into his clothing and he shivers momentarily.

“What did you mean that your cranks looked like zombies?” Daniel asks suddenly and Fernando looks at him.

“Isn’t that what all cranks look like?” He asks in confusion. 

“No. Our look like humans, except that they can’t speak and they smell like a body that just crawled out of a grave and they act like zombies. They just don’t look it.” Daniel says taking a pull at the cigarette and letting the smoke out through his nose. Fernando doesn’t say anything just stares into the fire and remembers.

Remembers cold nights curled up on cold ground trying to sleep, then being attacked by rotting flesh and hanging tongues. Remembers, puss bloated flesh and cracked nails, lank hair and faces half fallen away. Remembers shuffling walks and pain. He remembers the pain the most. Sometimes it creeps into his dreams and struggles and tries to get away, but there’s always something else in his way. Something worse.

~

The next morning Sergio wakes Fernando up with a shake and tells him that Iker wants to see them in fifteen minutes. He scrambles around his bed looking for his clothes and makes a mental note to go get more from the store room. Sergio is waiting impatiently by the door his eyes travelling everywhere except for Fernando and when he’s finally dressed Sergio yanks the door open and the two of them step into the corridor. 

Sergio didn’t sleep well the previous night. He was with Iker until the early hours and when he finally stumbled to bed and Fernando wasn’t screaming he thankfully slumped into bed only to be greeted by his own world of terrors. His parents with no voices, leering at him. Their putrid smell telling him what they are. The kitchen knife clasped in his hands. 

They arrive at Iker’s office and Sergio leans his head against the wall in an effort to organize his thoughts and try to make sense of a world that has changed and is continuously changing no matter how hard to stop it. He feels someone put a hand on his shoulder and he knows its Fernando so he lets it stay there. Sergio calms his breathing and settles his mind back into its normal rhythm. Fernando’s hand has slipped down his back to make small warm circles in the center of it and there’s a care and feeling in it that Sergio has had from anyone else. He’s usually the one that comforts, but he likes being the comforted just as much.

Sergio clears his throat and stands up straight Fernando’s hand slips off and Sergio knock on Iker’s door. A seconds pause then he opens the door.

“Oh good.” Iker says sounding anything but happy. The usual smiling eyes are tired and there are purple bags under them. Sergio hates seeing Iker like this, like a part of him has died.

“I need to talk to the two of you about a mission.”

“A mission?” Sergio says incredulously.

“Yes, Sara,” Iker pauses, sighs, then continues “said before she died that there is a new kind of crank out there and something about the inner city. I need you two to go find out what that means.”

“If you want confirmation on if there are two different kinds then I can give that to you.” Fernando speaks up. Sergio looks at him questioningly. “When I was, er, traveling, I was generally attacked by zombie like creatures, but Daniel told me that the creatures you guys deal with are human like in appearance, but without voices and intelligence.

Sergio’s eyes have gotten wider the whole while Fernando is talking. He’s never heard Fernando say so much at once. 

“I want you to explore inside the city and outside the city, to really confirm this. I also want you to try and salvage more antibiotics, Cris told me a couple days ago that we are going to start running low.” Iker says in response to Fernando.

“Why are you sending us?” Sergio asks because he wants to go but he doesn’t know if Iker will be ok if he leaves.

“Sergio you’re very capable and Fernando knows how to survive. I can’t send anyone else they are either too young or too inexperienced. Marcelo’s girl, Clarisse, is pregnant so she can’t go and neither can he and that would have been the other option.”

“Daniel?” Sergio asks, but his argument is fading. Iker shakes his head.

“He trains the inexperienced ones, and I have him working on something at the moment that’s really important. Sergio, I need you to do this.” There’s a pleading quality to Iker’s voice and Sergio knows he’s agreed before the word even leave his mouth.

“All right. Fernando?”

Fernando nods, but Sergio can already see the doors closing in his face. The doors that hold any feeling Fernando shows when he’s in the stadium. Out there, in the ‘real’ world there are no emotions and that scares Sergio, it scares him very much.


	7. The Past is a Memory Sometimes Purposefully Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fernando tells Daniel about his mission and Sergio spills some of his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone for the kind feedback.
> 
> Warning: This chapter is slightly violent toward the end which culminates in a death scene.

The first person Fernando tells about his 'mission' in Daniel, which, in perspective, was a bad idea. Instead of wishing Fernando luck and walking him to his room to collect his belongings which really only included his gun and an extra set of clothes, Daniel starts yelling.

“What the fuck does he think sending you? For fuck's sake you just got here like three days ago and you're not even completely healed.” The Dane yells gesticulating wildly. “And with Ramos. Ramos!” There's a note of exasperation in Daniel's voice. “He's the most reckless, god-damn fighter on the face of the fucking planet!”

“Daniel.” Fernando says quietly and Daniel shuts up, he knows that tone. Its the kind of tone that demands to be listened too without being loud. “I'm going and that's the end of it. If Iker hadn't taken me in and if Sergio hadn't carried me back here I would be as dead as the things I've had to kill. I have to do this, Dan, I have to prove that I'm not just some needy little boy that only happened to kill seven cranks-untouchables, or whatever they are. This is something that has to happen and if I die, I die.” Fernando laughs bitterly. “I haven't much to live for anyway.”

Daniel's mouth twists into a frown. “Well I'm not chopped liver or anything.” He says his tone light, but there's a desperateness to his expression and Fernando feels something in his guts clench. He reacts with out thinking and reaches out to hug Daniel. “You're my fucking best friend, Nando. Don't die.” Fernando grins into Daniel's shoulder.

“I'll try not to.” They stand there for a second or two, because deep down Fernando knows that Daniel really is his best friend. Even if they haven't known each other long enough for other people to classify them as such.

“Fernan- oh.” Sergio's voice comes from behind them. They break apart and Daniel scratches the back of his neck and swears under his breath in Danish. “I can come back...” Sergio trails off, but Daniel is already scooting around him.

“I'll see you before you go, Nando. Don't leave without telling me.” Daniel calls as he walks away down the corridor. Fernando smiles softly to himself before looking up at Sergio.

“How's Iker?” Fernando asks.

“Fucking brilliant, his girlfriend just died how do you think he's doing?” Sergio snaps and it takes a lot of self control on Fernando’s part not to snap something back, because that's the first time Sergio has snapped at him. “Come on, we have to get supplies. On second thought let's split up. You go to Cris in the infirmary and get basic stuff, bandages, antiseptic, et cetera, and I'll go get food, clothes and extra weapons since your ammo is going to run out soon and you'll have to use something else. What do you prefer, knife, spear, something else?”

“Knife.” Fernando replies shortly and turns to walk away.

“Hey, Fernando.” Sergio says and Fernando turns back.

“Thanks.” Fernando raises an eyebrow. “Before we went to meet Iker and um ya.” Sergio stumbles over the end and looks down at the floor like it's the most interesting thing since football. Fernando chuckles lightly.

“For a friend, right?” Fernando says and Sergio's face turns a little red and he nods still looking at the floor, and Fernando turns back in the direction of the infirmary. He walks away with the knowledge that he just made Sergio Ramos blush and thats something to make his grin mischievous as he walks away.

~

Going to Cris is easy and Fernando's sent away with a small metal case of bandages and antiseptic. He also finds out that Cris and Fabio (the guy with spiky blonde hair that they pulled Cris from in the Sara emergency) are going out, because he walked in on them kissing and he had to clear his throat three time before they noticed him and Fabio had pulled away bright red and embarrassed while Cris had grinned wolfishly and introduced them. Cris had also rechecked Fernando's bandages and then taken the stitches out of both wounds, marveling at how fast Fernando had recuperated.

Finally after a Fabio had wished him good luck and Cris had hugged him he had gone in search of Sergio. This proved slightly futile since the Sevillan had not seemed to be in any of the obvious places, when he had finally asked Marcelo he had been directed to the small patch of land that people of the Stadium used as a graveyard for the ashes of the dead.

Sergio is standing still and tall above a grave in the far corner of the patch and for a second Fernando just watches him. A small gust of wind ruffles Sergio's hair and his back is tensed. Fernando approaches slowly until he's close enough that Sergio can tell he's there. Sergio's face is a hard mask and his jaw is clenched but there a deep pain and sadness in his eyes .

“He was my brother.” Sergio says, his voice void of any emotion. “Those things killed him and I couldn’t stop them.” Sergio’s eyes are somewhere else, but Fernando knows that look. It’s the look of the scarred. “I was too far away.”

_Sergio’s spear sinks into another crank as a he feels another clutch at the back of his shirt. His forehead is dripping sweat and body fluids and he can’t think. Everything is a tinted red and blue. He feels a cold hardness in the pit of his stomach and that’s the only thing keeping him standing as he shakes off the crank on his back and dispatches it with a solid thrust. Almost immediately another takes it place and he stabs at it. It falls._

_Sergio spins looking out for his brother, Rene, who’s standing about 40 feet away fighting his own cranks. Sergio turns away seeing that his brother looks like he’s taking care of things. He feels something grab his leg. The crank he just stabbed has a feeble grip on his ankle and this time he gives it a good hard slice on the back of the neck severing its spinal cord._

_Then he hears a yell. Sergio’s heart drops fifty feet because that’s Rene and Rene never yells. He turns and his heart drops another fifty feet. Rene is flailing desperately, no knife, no spear, no weapon at all and he’s surrounded by at least ten cranks. They bear down biting and tearing and Rene screams in pain and helplessness and Sergio can’t fucking_ move! _Rene screams again and this pulls Sergio into action. He sprints as fast as he never has and waving his weapon left and right but he’s still to slow and he hears Rene scream again but it’s in utter pain. Then Sergio is there cutting right, left, back and forth, blood and body fluids flying everywhere and all Sergio can think about is his brother and how he wasn’t quick enough._

_It clears then, and there are no more cranks just bloody piles and Sergio drops his spear and sinks down next to Rene. Rene whimpers in pain and there’s too much blood and Sergio doesn’t know where its coming from and he tries to stop it with his hands, but it refuses to stop._

_“Sergio.” Rene gasps out._

_“Shhh, don’t talk. Conserve your energy. You’re going to be ok.” Sergio says trying to reassure himself._

_“Sergio, I love you. Okay? You know that?” Sergio nods and that coldness in his stomach suddenly melts and there are tears pouring down his cheeks._

_“I love you too, Rene.” Sergio sobs out._

_“I’m going to see Mamá and Papá. It’s ok, Sergio, don’t cry. It’s ok, I love…” Rene trails off and his eyes empty. Sergio shakes him.  
“Rene?” When he gets no response, and the emptiness of Rene’s eyes stare at him accusingly the realization crashes down on and he howls. Howls in anguish and sadness and frustration and pain. Howls because now he’s alone and he has no one. Howls because he’s never going to have a brother again and he won’t get to stand proudly at an altar and watch as his brother weds smiling faced woman. His brother won’t get to stand beside a hospital bed and hold a newborn child that’s his, his own precious child. He won’t get to have more children and watch them grow. He won’t grow old and fat with his wife and he won’t die a contented old man. _

_Something cold reforms in Sergio’s stomach and he falls silent. Tears still falling down his face, he gathers his brother into his arms and begins walking._

As Sergio talks, his face gets even more grim and his eyes fill with more pain, and Fernando wraps an arm around his shoulders and forces him to sit on the hard packed earth. His voice breaks once as he tells the part where his brother says his last words, and Fernando would have hugged him, but Sergio isn’t like that so he doesn’t. 

When Sergio finishes he falls silent and his head sinks to his knees and only then does Fernando wrap his other arm around Sergio and hug him. 

“I don’t even know why I told you this.” Sergio mumbles quietly and Fernando doesn’t answer for a moment. 

“Because you and I share a pain.” Sergio looks up and Fernando stares back and they’re so close that Fernando can smell Sergio’s aftershave. 

“And what is that?” 

“I’ve lost a sibling too.” Fernando says shortly. “Once we get moving I’ll tell you. It’s a long story.” He gets to his feet and hold out a hand. Sergio takes it and Fernando pulls him up. 

“We’ve spent too much time in memories better left alone.” Sergio says and the two walk back towards the stadium. Sergio looks back only once. _I love you too, brother, I love you too._


	8. Sometimes People Are The Real Murderers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've stretched the tension long enough. ;) Enjoy!

They travel east away from the sinking sun, toward the outer rim of the city where the buildings are shorter and the spaces larger and Fernando tells Sergio what he had lost.

“It was probably around six years ago, before the disease, so a crank didn’t get her. She was murdered.”

_“Oh Fernando, you’re such an idiot sometimes! Why the fuck couldn’t you have left it alone?” Maria gasps out as they turn down an alley, in a slightly vain attempts to lose the men chasing them._

_“You're my older sister. I wasn’t going to let them talk to you like that.” Fernando replies as they keep running, breaths gasping and feet pounding._

_“But did you really have to call him a wart on a rat’s arse? You couldn’t have just said ‘Fuck off’ or something?” Maria replies her lips lifting in a slight smile._

_“No, that would have been boring.” Fernando grins recklessly. “Besides, he really did look like a wart on a rat's arse.”_

_“What does that even look like?” Fernando opens his mouth. “No, I don’t want to know. Oh shit, I have to stop for a second. I can’t breath.”_

_Maria steps into a doorway and bends over panting. Fernando tips nervously from foot to foot, anxious to keep moving._

_“Are they still following us?” Maria says and answers her own question by peeking out and looking both ways. Seeing no one she steps back out into the alley and Fernando follows quietly._

_“You also had to insult his mother and say she was a cow that had accidentally mated with a monkey. Jesus Christ, whatever happened to my little innocent brother?” Maria is smiling now, her eyes bright and amused as they near the end of the alley. She turns back to Fernando, her grin bright and full, like and open sunflower._

_Then there’s a bang._

_Maria’s grin falters and suddenly it feels like the world is flowing in slow motion. There’s a flower blossoming across Maria’s white cotton t-shirt. A bright red rose and it reminds Fernando of the roses that they grow at home in the box outside the kitchen window, but those roses don’t make Maria fall. Then, as if a gear switches back, everything is moving fast again and Maria’s on the ground writhing in pain and Fernando kneels down pressing at the wound trying to stop that awful rose from spreading._

_Maria gasps in pain at the pressure, but no matter what Fernando does the the rose keeps spreading like deadly ivy. Covering his hands and the pavement and Maria is crying, tears leaking from her eyes in silver droplets of pain and Fernando knows that she knows what he’s trying to push away._

_She’s dying and he can’t do anything._

_“My fault.” He whispers and she shakes her head._

_“Never, never your fault, Niño.” Maria whispers back and closes her eyes. Her body goes limp and one single drop of red leaks from her nose and down the side of her face. Fernando wants to cry and scream and punch something, but he can’t move._

_That’s when Fernando hears the laughter. Cruel and loud, like a crow’s screech it penetrates his ear drums and enters his brain. He looks up and see the man he had insulted less than an hour ago standing there gun in his hand and smirk on his lips._

_“Bitch deserved it, and you’re next smart arse.” Fernando feels a switch in his brain go on, as if the man’s words have triggered something locked deep down and hidden away._

_In a flash Fernando kicks the man’s legs out from under him, using a technique Maria taught him from self-defense class, and grabs the gun as the man hits the pavement. He immediately points it at the man’s head. He feels no remorse, he would shoot this man right here, but suddenly there are blue uniform surrounding him and feels someone gently tugging the gun from his hand._

_Everything after that is a blur and he remembers lots of questions and automatic answers. He remembers his father’s tears and his mother’s wailing, but no not much else. All he keeps seeing is her face, Maria’s face as the bullet hits her, and the red rose blossoming from her shirt._

_The day after they bury her, his mother find all of her roses in the window box destroyed and torn apart._

While Fernando speaks his eyes stare straight ahead and his voice doesn’t falter or crack and Sergio doesn’t know whether to hug him or say something. Finally he settles on the former and reaches out, putting a hand on Fernando’s shoulder, he’s shaking like a leaf in mid August. Sergio pulls him into a rough hug and Fernando buries his face in Sergio’s neck. 

They stand like that for a while, in the center of a shattered broken place filled with memories of the past. They hold each other because they are just two lost souls in the long forgotten shell of life trying to make sense of everything.

They set up camp an hour later, and neither of them talks much because they’re tired and Fernando, for the first time in a long time wants to curl up and cry. Cry for what he has lost, and cry for what he remembers, because after he told Sergio what happened his mind wouldn’t stop. It flooded his inner eye with memories buried so deep they he had forgotten that six years had passed. 

Sergio lights a small fire and heats up a can of beans. The smell makes Fernando momentarily forget his memories and when Sergio hands him his portion, he gives a grateful murmur of thanks. 

“We’re lucky not to have run into anything so far.” Sergio says as he polishes off his portion of beans and begins to dig a hole with a small shovel. When it’s deep enough he puts the can and their disposable utensils in the hole and covers it in the dirt. Fernando nods and then yawns. Sergio sees it and smiles slightly. “I’ll take first watch.”

Fernando, again murmurs a grateful ‘thank you’ and unrolls his assigned sleeping bag on the hard packed road. He crawls in and cushions his head on his hands, he knows that he isn’t going to fall asleep for a while. Maria’s face suddenly crowds his vision and for the first time since her death six years ago he allows himself to cry. 

Fernando tries to be as silent as he can because Sergio has his own sorrows and pain and he shouldn’t have to shoulder Fernando’s too. Obviously he isn’t quiet enough, because a minute later he feels Sergio crawl over and sit next to him. Then a hand is rubbing through his hair and he relaxes into the touch because he knows it’s Sergio. He can feel his heartbeat quicken and suddenly he reaches up gently grabs the wrist, Sergio jumps in surprise.

“You’re awake.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Fernando asks, sitting up.

“Well you have nightmares and I usually calm you down at some point during the night so I just thought that you were crying in your sleep and ya…” Sergio looks down. Fernando still hasn’t let go of Sergio’s wrist and maybe his heartbeat quicken a little bit more. 

“Thank you.” Fernando says softly and their so close that even in the low light of the fire Fernando can see Sergio blush. Sergio’s breath slides across Fernando’s cheek as they lean inexorably toward each other. Fernando finally closes the gap and gently kisses Sergio on the mouth. 

There are no sparks, no fireworks, no explosions. Just Sergio’s slightly chapped lips on his and it’s one of the most really beautiful moments in Fernando’s short life. Sergio inhales sharply in surprise, then relaxes and moves his lips against Fernando’s, searching for more. It’s a bit rough and they bump noses and pull apart looking away and smiling in a secret sort of way because it wasn’t sexual or heated with passion. It was real and comforting and filled with respect.

For the first time in long, long time Fernando goes to sleep with a smile on his face and doesn’t feel so alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Fernando really does have an older sister named Maria, he also a brother named Israel.
> 
> 2\. Thank you everyone for the amazing feedback.


	9. Goodnight. Sleep Tight. Don't Let the Dead Bite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again everyone for the support.  
> I apologize since this is short, but I hope the action is a small compensation.

Fernando is rudely awakened sometime later by a hand on his mouth and Sergio’s face very close to his.

“Keep very quiet.” Sergio hisses right next to his ear. 

At any other time Fernando would have shivered but now he nods in cold understanding. Something’s out there. Sergio removes his hand from Fernando’s mouth and this allows him to reach into his backpack and pull out his gun. Sergio shakes his head and pushes a lethal looking knife into Fernando’s hand. Gun’s too loud. Fernando thinks and quietly crawls out of his sleeping bag. 

“How many?” He whispers right up against Sergio’s ear. Fernando feels Sergio shudder and hold up a hand, all five fingers extended. The sky is pitch black, void of color, and the only light is the dying embers of their fire. Sergio lowers first his pinky, then his ring-finger, then his middle finger, and makes a twirling gesture with his index finger. Surrounding us. Shit. Sergio’s index finger goes down, but before he tucks away his thumb he pulls Fernando that one inch closer and gives him a searing kiss. It’s desperation, teeth and fear and only lasts a few seconds but for a second Fernando can’t see straight. 

Then the thumb goes down and Sergio yells out a wordless cry of rage and jumps on the nearest crank which happens to be behind them. Fernando yanks himself back to the present and turns to the crank on his left. He gulps in surprise. It looks like a perfectly normal person, a woman in fact, with red hair and green eyes. She steps closer and the smell hits him. The sweet sickly smell of rotting flesh, the thing opens it’s mouth and the tongue that should be there isn’t. He reacts with out thinking the knife making quick work of her and turns to the next one. 

It looks like a crank should. Rotting flesh, vacant eyes, if there are any, and shuffling steps. It’s head comes off when Fernando slashes at it’s neck. He looks around for Sergio who looks like he’s got the last one cornered against the fire, when it snaps out a hand and scratches him across the face. Sergio gives a yelp and stumbles back, Fernando steps forward. He spins the thing with a push to the shoulder and the sticks the knife into it’s neck. It convulses once then lays still. 

Fernando hurries over to where Sergio is sitting on the ground, blood trickling from his face. Sergio looks like he’s got other minor injuries as well and there’s little droplets of blood and body fluids all over both of them. 

“G-d, you can’t be careful?” Fernando asks exasperated, and reaching over to Sergio’s bag for the first aid kit. Sergio’s grin is filled with adrenaline and triumph. 

“Never! What’s the fun in being careful?” Sergio questions as Fernando pulls out the alcohol, swabs, and adhesive strips. Fernando doesn’t answer, just shakes his head and with one hand pulls Sergio’s face forward and with the other gently wipes away the blood. Sergio hisses at the sting of the alcohol touching his cut, then goes absolutely still when he feels Fernando gently kiss the cut. 

“You want me to get any other one’s?” Fernando asks, blushing slightly. 

“Ya, I have one on my back, but lets move the bodies first, ok?” Sergio asks and stands holding out a hand to Fernando who uses it to hoist himself up. 

They drag the five bodies of the dead cranks about sixty yards from their campsite and send them up in flames. By this time the sun is rising in a red bubble over the tops of the ruined buildings and Fernando feels an ache in his bones that sleep won’t fix. He wants to close the fountain of memories that opened when he told Sergio about his sister. He shuts his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath before opening them and looking at Sergio a question in his eyes. Sergio motions that they should go back to their camp. 

They really should move on, but Fernando insisted in an almost Cris-like way that he take care of Sergio’s wounds. 

“They aren’t so bad.” Sergio mumbles as he takes off his shirt and turns around. “This is probably just an excuse to get me to take my shirt off.” 

Fernando is glad that Sergio can’t see his face which is as red the sun above them. He pulls out the alcohol and grabs the cotton swabs. Gently, he rubs in the liquid, Fernando can feel Sergio shuddering in silent pain. He puts the cotton swab down and softly runs the pad of a finger over the cut. It’s not much, just a scratch and it won’t scar. Not like his. 

“Nando?” Sergio asks hesitating.

“Hmm?” Fernando hums in answer still gently running his fingers over Sergio’s back.

“How did you get the scars on your back?” Fernando freezes then sighs. _Maybe telling it will make it go away._


	10. Scars will heal, but are meant to bleed

“When the disease first affected the people in Spain I was in Barçelona, visiting friends with my parents. I stole the car when I saw what was happening and I drove as fast as I could out of the city. I was terrified of those things, I called them Untouchables.” Fernando’s eyes follow the line of the horizon, dotted with ruins and his eyes take on a vacant look. He speaks as though he's spitting out facts in science class and Sergio is reminded of a robot.

_Fernando remembers fear. Fear of death. Fear of the Untouchables. Fear of what they could do. Fear, raw and terrible. All consuming fear. Fear when the gas ran out of the car. Fear when he had to set up his first night camp. Fear when he killed his first Untouchable. Fear._

_The Fear had only stopped when he had met Carlos. Carlos had been in charge of a ‘haven.’ A safe pace filled with smiles and laughter. No one had the Fear. Safety was addictive. Carlos was too good. Carlos could sweet talk anything. Fernando hadn’t felt the Fear for three years in that place. He had only felt love. There was never talk of death, of Untouchables, of anything Carlos had seen as horrid or ugly._

_Carlos would take care of them._

_Fernando was in love with Carlos. He loved Carlos like one would love the wind. Gentle and sweet or harsh and wild. Carlos was a force, much like a hurricane, he picked people up and carried them with him to safety. Carlos loved Fernando. He loved Fernando because Fernando was easy and Fernando was safe._

_And then Fernando discovered what Carlos was really doing._

_Finding lost souls was good thing. Finding lost souls and selling them to the ‘body snatchers,’ that was not a good thing. Body snatchers, as they were called by the drifters that came and went, took people or bought them. That is not so bad bad in perspective, but taking these same children and killing them and eating them? That was bad._

_That was how Carlos got food for his haven. He would steal out in the night and find children and sell them. Sometimes he would even join the body snatchers for a meal._

_Fernando had followed him one afternoon in late-something and watched him with mounting horror as the Carlos he loved slowly brought back the Fear. It gripped his heart and squeezed until it wouldn’t let him breath. That’s when they had found him, hidden behind a bush._

_Fernando had pleaded and sobbed and wept, had even grovelled, but they had just laughed. Carlos most of all, his brilliant blue eyes filled with scorn. Fernando had felt his heart crack into little shards of black glass that soon was ground to fine sand and swept away by the Fear. He was empty, done, devoid of hope, gone. They tied him to a pole and beat him. ‘Tenderizing,’ they called it. They whipped him. ‘Loosening,’ they called it. They laughed and sang and stamped their feet to a rhythm only they could hear, the rhythm of power. They slept._

_None woke up._

_Except Carlos._

_He saw what Fernando had done. Slicing through the bonds with a knife he kept hidden in the sole of his boot. Knifing the ‘Body Snatchers’ while they slept. Now Carlos felt the Fear and Fernando the rhythm of power. The last thing Carlos saw before the open arms of Death was Fernando’s broken, bruised and shattered face._

_Fernando had wandered, then. Wandered, delirious with pain and rage. Not caring what saw him or smelled him or attacked him. He cried for his lost heart and his life that had once been. He cried because he didn’t want to and afterward he promised himself that he would never do it again._

_Finally on the third day of Fernando’s delirium he picked up by a group of wanderers who had treated his wounds and marvelled at the silent boy with the cuts like tiger stripes._

_Fernando lost time after that. Days passed. Months. Years. And he didn’t even notice._

_Life was fighting and finding something to eat. Don’t go into the city there are Untouchables. Don’t go too far into wild country there are other things that are fiercer than Untouchables._

_The Fear never left him. It stayed lodged in the place where his heart used to be and writhed in triumph over its win._

_Then Fernando was picked up by Xabi, Pepe, and Sergio and the Fear had started to retreat, trickle by trickle. The broken black sand that had been his heart had begun to heat and melt and mold and reform back into a familiar shape. The Fear was still there, yes, but it didn’t have as much power as before._

“I don’t fear like I used too.” Fernando says. “I think it’s because I have someone to share it with.” He concludes and gives Sergio an open look, that says; _There it’s your’s now too, do with it what you will._

Sergio blushes because he doesn’t know what to do with that kind of look, so he leans forward and kisses Fernando on the forehead. “I will take from you what I can and we will destroy this fear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter is taken from a Hollywood Undead song.  
> Thank you for the continued support and love.  
> I'm sorry this is a bit short and heavy, but school is bitch.


	11. We live through our hearts

From there on they travel. They travel along the border of the ruined city to the pale, dry hard landscape beyond. They travel within the city. The explore the ruins of giant buildings and houses long worn down by weather. Sergio almost dies once or twice because he was being stupid and trying to impress Fernando. Fernando just thinks he’s an idiot. A cute idiot, but an idiot none the less. 

They never really do find a reason why there are two different kinds of cranks. They are too busy exploring each other.

When they finally go back to the Bernabeu and report back to Iker he gives them a bittersweet smile and tells them they did good. He knows what they’re feeling. He’s been there too. When they leave a single lonely tear makes it’s way down his cheek before its viciously whipped away. 

They don’t sleep in separate beds (not they really ever have anyway). Sergio still holds Fernando when he has nightmares. Sometimes when Sergio can’t fall asleep because the images in his mind are too sharp, Fernando will do everything he can to distract Sergio. 

Daniel sighs and exclaims over the fact that everyone seems to be “gay these days” and “why are all of my best friends in love with each other?” Of course he only says that until a guy named Martin Skrtel is picked up. Then its the rest of the guys that are teasing him.

Iker eventually moves on although it takes him quite a while. 

Cris learns how to birth a baby and discovers a hidden stash of antibiotics in secret panel in one of his cupboards. He comes running in to the cafeteria during lunch waving a box in his hands and too excited to speak. Fabio kisses him in congratulations and everyone wolf whistles. Cris turns red. 

There are so many things about what has happened, so many beautiful things, that Fernando never even dreamed about. He has Sergio. Beautifully reckless and frighteningly wonderful, Sergio. He has contentment and security (at least for now). There aren’t many things trying to kill him. He even has a patch of garden where he’s trying to grow cucumbers. For the first time in a long time Fernando feels happy. And for the first time in an even longer time he has enough enough love to give some back in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. This is the end of a saga. An emotional experience for me even though I stink horribly at ending anything. I might write a sequel. I might not. This has definitely been a journey and I thank everyone who was here for it. Thank you Raya for inspiring it. Thank you darthenna for being there every single chapter. lumaste, a thank you too you as well. 
> 
> I will of course as I have said many times be revamping this at some point. It is possible that then I will draw out the ending a bit more. If I do, be rest assured that I will let it be known. Thank you again. This really was an awesome experience.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Raya for prompting this piece of fiction.  
> I'm also looking for someone to beta this and other stuff so ya that would be much appreciated.  
> Thank you all.  
> You know the drill.


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